


Forget-me-not

by Brinchestiel



Series: Destiel Drabbles, Prompts, One-shots, IDK. [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Castiel Takes Care of Dean Winchester, Early onset dementia, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, alternate universe - Care Home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 01:05:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6449368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brinchestiel/pseuds/Brinchestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short drabble written for the lovely poemwriter98 on Tumblr, who provided me with the following prompt:<br/>"I almost lost you.”</p><p>Early onset Dementia grants Dean a good day; he remembers his husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forget-me-not

** Forget-me-not **

****

The sliding doors of the care home sighed as Castiel walked through them. He was burdened with his usual gifts; some cake from Sam and Jody, his and Dean’s photo album, and some new flowers for Dean’s room.

“Morning, Cas,” smiled the young receptionist. She was relatively new, but Castiel thought she was perfectly suited for the job; sunny, friendly, helpful. A welcome distraction from all the heartache that occurred within these walls.

“Good morning, Sarah, and how are you?” he replied, signing in to the visitors book.

“I’m good, late one last night,” she grinned, rubbing her forehead a little, “Dean is very excited to see you today, he wouldn’t shut up about you last night, not for love nor money, not even the burger he had at dinner. Kept right on talkin’, mouth full and everything.”

A flutter of tiny wings warmed Castiel from the inside, “That’s good right?”

“Of course,” Sarah nodded, handing him his visitor’s badge, “it’s very good.”

Maybe today would be a good day, especially if Dean had remembered him once he’d left yesterday. He gripped the bunch of flowers slightly tighter; Dean’s condition was somewhat difficult to manage, even harder to navigate.

“I’ll get you a vase for those, hon,” Sarah leaned over the counter, taking the flowers; baby’s breath, yellow roses, huge white gerberas, from Castiel’s grip.

“Yes,” Castiel mumbled, “Yes, thank you.”

* * *

He wandered down the hallway, walls painted an almost offensive shade of yellow: bright and in-your-face. This home was the best of the private care institutions that Castiel could afford; it was carpeted, and tried very hard to pretend it wasn’t a medical facility. Even Castiel had been fooled first time he’d seen it.

Checking Dean in here that first night was an unbearable memory for him. Though it had been a year, Castiel still couldn’t bear to recall how Dean had gripped his sleeves, his fingernails clawing into his forearms. He’d sobbed, begged, pleaded but Castiel, through his tears, had sworn he had no other choice.

He was not qualified to take care of Dean.

The decent into Alzheimer’s was very sudden for Dean. They were meant to share the rest of their lives together, but Dementia had stolen that opportunity right from their grasp. Dean was only forty-five when it started.

And, at first, it was funny, they’d laughed about it. How Dean would walk into a room and entirely forget why he was there, or he’d forget the names of simple things, like the fridge, or the front door. How, when Sam came over to visit, Dean would call him any name other than his; Paul, Simon, Joe. It was funny to them.

But, then came the sleep trouble, the bed-wetting and the mood swings. Castiel recalled one particularly frightening afternoon in the park, when Dean had wandered off after a visit to the public restroom, entirely forgetting where he was, and why he was there. The fear that gripped Castiel that day, he had never felt before. Not in his whole life.

His frantic search found Dean crouched in a huddle of trees, sobbing uncontrollably, his face a mess of soil, tears and snot. He’d gripped Castiel with an intensity that could’ve crushed his bones, mumbling incoherently into the lapels of his husband’s jacket.

Castiel had held him for hours that day at the park, crouched beside him. The only things he could think to say as he stroked his fingers through his husband’s hair were: “I love you, it’s okay,” and “I almost lost you, god, I almost lost you.”

When Dean began to forget Castiel’s name, that’s when he knew. That’s when he knew it was only a matter of time before he faded from his husband’s mind completely. With the help of Sam and Jody, they’d found this care home, nestled between the quiet fields of the suburbs. It boasted beautiful sprawling gardens that Dean loved to walk around, large bedrooms with plenty of natural light, and an abundance of caring nurses caring for him day in, day out.

It was the best of a bad situation.

* * *

He knocked thrice on the dark wood of Dean’s bedroom door, smiling when he heard his husband’s cheerful, “Come in!”

His smile turned ever wider when he saw Dean sat on his bed, bending over, trying to tie his shoelaces. Castiel instantly fell to his knee, batting his husband’s shaking hands away before his inability to complete even this simple task overwhelmed him.

“Cas,” Dean breathed. Castiel’s heart clenched tight, and the wings in his stomach returned, fluttering happily.

_He remembered me. Today he remembered me._

“Hello, Dean,” he says, finishing the bows on Dean’s shoes before lifting his chin, accepting the kiss that Dean pressed to his lips.

“I’ve been waiting,” Dean replied, his trembling hands falling to Castiel’s shoulders and rubbing gently.

“You have, have you?” Castiel pushed his hands through Dean’s hair; the nurses never managed to get the style quite right. Dean hummed his appreciation, before nodding eagerly.

“What have you got planned for us today, my love?” Castiel asked quietly, rubbing his fingers just behind Dean’s ears before moving to sit next to him on the bed.

“I wanna show you around the gardens, Cas, it’s really beautiful here, I think you’re gonna like it.”

Castiel nodded: they often went around the gardens at least 3 out of 5 visits, but each time felt like the first time for Dean.

“Well, that sounds just wonderful. Here, I’ve brought you some cake from Sam-“

“Sam! How is he? Is he coming to see me?”

“He said he’d be here this weekend, he’ll be visiting with Jody.”

“Jody?” Dean’s face falls, his hand stills from where it was stroking over Castiel’s.

“Yes, Dean, you remember? Sam’s wife?” Castiel encourages with a squeeze of Dean’s fingers.

“Sammy got married? Huh,” Dean shrugged, resuming his gentle petting of Castiel’s hand, eyebrows drawn together in thought. “Hey, Cas?”

Castiel hummed in response, a sigh of relief barely hidden. He threaded his fingers through Dean’s.

“When are we gettin’ married?”

The lump in his throat was such a permanent fixture in his life that Castiel hardly noticed it these days.

“We’ve been married for 15 years, Dean, don’t tell me you forgot about that.”

The silence that followed was tense. It always was tense. Dean’s condition was often unpredictable.

“I’m sorry, Cas, I must’ve. I’m sorry,” Dean’s face crumpled a little, but Castiel was quick to soothe, with tender touches to his cheeks, little pecks down his freckled nose.

“It’s alright, my love, it’s alright, I forgive you. I have the pictures with me if you’d like to see them?”

Dean sniffs, wiping gruffly at his cheeks “After the gardens?”

“Yes, of course, after the gardens,” he agreed.


End file.
